


5 Things Tony Put in Peter's Suit

by Peer_Parker



Series: Other Fics [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Blood, Drowning, Fainting, Fluff, High School, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Irondad, Kidnapping, Loneliness, More tags to be added, Negative Thoughts, Peter Parker Whump, Pizza, Stabbing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony stark is trying, Trackers, Violence, anaemia, graphic descriptions of drowning, oxygen, pineapple on pizza, sensory issues, spiderson, tony stark is a helicopter parent, tony stark is worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peer_Parker/pseuds/Peer_Parker
Summary: +1 thing he didn't)The one which goes over the different features Tony put in Peter's suit in order to help him, and the one feature he couldn't add.Or, an excuse to write Irondad hurt/comfort and whump.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Other Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727824
Comments: 28
Kudos: 227





	1. Tracker

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while and finally committed to writing it. Apologies if the start of the story has any mistakes, only I wrote almost 2000 words of it and then my computer froze and hhhhh writing the same thing twice is an experience.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter includes some descriptions of violence. I didn't think they were graphic enough to need the 'Graphic descriptions of violence' tag but I'll just warn anyways. There's a little bit of blood mentioned and I've added more details to the tags just in case.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

The theme of Tony’s nightmares was common. Death, injury, illness… Not his, of course. But, of the people around him. Peter, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey- the list went on. Whilst he was content that the last three on that list didn’t galivant around the city fighting crime, he couldn’t say the same for the first. Of course, he worried about the other Avengers as well. However, they’d been in the field for a long time, and Peter was his kid. He’d gone past the stage of denying it. The two had become close through missions together, lab times, sitting together on the couch watching movies… that imperceptible line between mentor and mentee, and father and son, had been worn down through smiles, laughs, and time spent together. Tony didn’t regret it one bit.

He only found that the worry that made his arc beat faster, increased exponentially. Peter was a kid. He was an avenger, but Tony couldn’t pull his mind away from the fact that he was just- 16, was it? It’d been two years since he’d met the boy in his apartment room, teasing him about his improvised suit and getting his hand webbed to the door. Ever since then, he’d seen nothing but improvement in the boy. He’d been immature and gone against his orders to only deal with ‘little guy crime’- but he’d taken down the Vulture. Through their training together, he became more and more sure that his kid was brilliant. Take the key word- kid. Kiddo, kid, Underoos, Spider-boy… his mind had latched onto the fact of his age, like how his arms had wrapped around the boy in their very first ‘real’ hug.

You could call Tony a helicopter parent. That’s because he was. He didn’t want to be like his father, and he didn’t want his boy to get hurt or killed, in the many ways his nightmares hissed into his ear every other night. This didn’t mean that Tony stopped the boy from being Spider-Man. It just meant that he kept a watchful eye on his kid, through the only way he could- through tech. Mainly, within his suit. Checking his vitals, finding out information through Karen… And a tracker. All of which proved handy to him at different times.

The last of these was his current favourite.

It had been a normal night. Peter was out in the streets of Queens, dancing with danger, with the employment of sharpened quips and bravery. His mind became so focused on the tasks thrown his way that he always seemed to be monologuing or speaking with Karen. It was a welcome distraction for Tony to cling onto, during the times where he tuned in to the feed from the Spider suit.

‘ _Hey- I don’t think you should be playing with that, man. That looks like it costs about twice your wardrobe. Which, given the state of your pants, isn’t really a lot, but- aw, c’mon—’_

Tony snorted. Usually the boy went for puns or airy jokes, so he knew it was more serious when he tried verbal attacks on his enemy. It didn’t sound like it succeeded, as he heard a series of crashes and muffled swearing. Pretending he didn’t hear that, he gripped the table, nails digging into the wood as he waited for his kid to speak again.

All he was met with, however, was silence.

He threw a glance to the vitals and cursed. There was a dip and he noted that the crashes must have been someone knocking Peter unconscious. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony chanted under his breath, a tad less eloquent with his monologuing than Peter, as he tapped a few keys to bring up the tracker on the suit. It wasn’t the best, given that he’d had to make it a very subtle feature, seeing how he knew the boy would probably get annoyed about it. It’d only been the other day that he’d seen him uninstall Facebook from his phone when he saw it was tracking his location without consent, ranting about reptilian overlords, whatever that meant.

Tony glowered ahead of him for a moment, as if his internal thoughts were messing with his current task of tracking down Peter. He was currently moving swiftly through the city, which the billionaire took as a sign that he was being transported in a moving vehicle. _Moving vehicle- no shit, Stark_ , he internally berated himself, already getting geared up in the latest Iron Man suit. Once the metal mask snapped over his face, he got FRIDAY to log Peter’s tracker into his suit, so he’d be able to follow it as he flew.

From the speed Peter’s captors were moving at, however, he knew that even with him going at top speed, he wouldn’t be able to catch up with them until they stopped. They were already approaching the outskirts of the city.

“I’m coming for you, kid.” He muttered, flying out of the window, leaving fluttering papers in his wake.

\------------------

Peter decided that getting kidnapped sucked.

“I’m leaving you guys a bad Yelp review- if that even exists anymore.” He growled, struggling against his restraints. When he’d come to, he recollected being thrown out of a van and into a dingy basement, where his wrists and ankles were wrapped mercilessly to a chair with a material that even he couldn’t break through. He was forever thankful that they’d left his suit on. One, so that his identity was still concealed. Two, because he was sure Mr Stark would realise that he was missing at some point, and maybe there was some tech in the suit that might help him locate the criminal base.

It was a stupid decision, really, leaving his suit on. He wasn’t going to say it though, he wasn’t the stupid one. They might have had alien or advanced weapons and restraints, but he had his wits about him. In short: they might’ve had the brawns, but he had the brains. _Aw yeah, that just about summed up his high school life._ Or just school in general.

So, whilst he recognised that they’d made dumb decisions, which might lead to his eventual escape, he knew to be cautious enough about the threat that they posed to him. He could take a beating, sure. He didn’t want to, but he figured that they’d kidnapped him either just for the giggles, or, because they wanted: a) revenge, or, b) information. Since they hadn’t killed him already, he figured that he wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Which was comforting.

That comfort didn’t last long, however, as soon, the looming metal door behind him swung open with a clang against the wall. _Wow,_ he noted _, whoever smashed that door open is either real angry, or real hench_.

“Oh, both.” He uttered aloud when the man came into his vision, before snapping his mouth shut. The guy was unnaturally tall and toned, with scars lining his body, giving him the impression of Frankenstein’s creature- if the creature had joined a mafia-esque criminal group and not just been a moderate killer, that is.

“You got a voice, huh?” The man leered at him. Peter noted there was another set of footsteps echoing throughout the room as a smaller built man came into his vision. The guy held a clipboard and had a mean look in his eyes, as he sat down in the chair across from Peter. All he needed was a white cat on his lap and he’d become a typical Bond villain.

“No.” Peter quipped back. His quip was a little weak, but he had just been knocked out by blunt force only half an hour previously.

The man rolled his eyes. He slicked a hand through his slimy white hair, leaning forwards in his seat. “You think this is the time for jokes? Oh- don’t worry. We’ll be having some fun soon. But… Let’s be serious for a moment, _Spider-Man_. I know who you are.” Peter’s breath caught in his chest. “A silly little boy playing dress-up with the Avengers. Sadly, I don’t know who you are just yet… _that wouldn’t be any fun_. But I can tell. I can tell from your voice, your build- and, well, just let me say- I’m sure Tony Stark, cold as he is, wouldn’t want his child getting hurt on his watch.”

Peter could deal with the digs at his age, and the annoying villain rambling persona, but he lurched forwards in his seat at the words about Tony. “You don’t know anything about him- he’s—”

“That’s just want I want to hear, young Stark.” Huh, so the man thought they were related. That at least helped to add to his cover. Until his mask was ripped off, that is. “So, my suspicions were correct. They say that blood is thicker than water. Perhaps, Stark will pay up when I bathe the floor in your blood…”

The larger man advanced towards Peter, a knife in hand. As the blade sliced through the air towards him, he shouted, “That’s wrong- it’s the blood of the covenant- is thicker than the water of th— _aghh-”_

His sentence cut off as the blade dug into his thigh and he screamed. He’d been stabbed before, but the burning feeling that spread through his muscle like fire never changed. He grit his teeth to stop the sound. The man wanted a ransom from Tony. He knew he could pay, but that didn’t necessarily mean these guys would be faithful in their end of the deal and free him. That might lead into constant payments from Tony to no satisfaction, and likely, want of his dangerous tech.

He couldn’t do that to his mentor- heck, his father figure. The stress would be too much on him, with the cat and mouse game of trying to get Peter back and failing. No, he was Spider-Man. He could deal with this. He’d take the hits and he’d escape.

His mind could only distract him for so long, however, as the blade was released from his skin and he screwed his eyes shut. He could feel that his advanced healing was already scrambling to sew together the fabric of his skin, which also made it hurt all the more. The wound was deep, and he knew it would fail in properly healing him, which meant he’d need stitches. Great. That meant he’d either have to deal with the pain of getting his skin sewed back together, or he’d be put into the floaty, uncomfortable haze that his super strength pain meds left him in. Neither of which sounded appealing. Of course, this was all assuming that he managed to get out of this place.

“Not so cocky now… boy…” The sickening voice of the villain rang out in the haze, along with the _scritch scratch_ of his pencil against the clipboard as he wrote something down. _Gosh, psychopath_ _can’t even bring a pen_ , he thought, and then felt the knife come at him again. Peter didn’t have time to muffle his yells. One glance up told him that he’d antagonised the threat by accidentally speaking his last thought aloud. Ugh, he hated it when pain rendered the line between mind and mouth invisible.

Peter knew it was for the good of those close to him, but he couldn’t help but let the tears streak down his cheeks as he pleaded for help. If this hadn’t have happened, he’d probably be lounging on the couch with his mentor, eating a late dinner and watching a movie. He loved being a hero, but he wished the criminal population were just that slight bit more incompetent. Time stretched out into eternities as pain ripped through his body, and he wondered if he’d be graced with the peace of unconsciousness, when there was a loud crash.

Glass shattered across the floor and there was a whirring of sound as Iron Man burst into the decrepit room, eyes aglow and gauntlets posed to fire. The man who’d been previously attacking Peter turned, knife in hand, to face the new threat. Peter snorted. _What an idiot. A knife ain’t gonna beat Iron Man- and it would’ve been better if he’d held me at… at knife point and got Mr Stark to disarm_.

“Kid- I know you’re out of it, but try to refrain from giving the bad guys advice, for the love of all that is holy-” Tony advised him, as he threw the man across the room, where he hit the wall and fell to the ground, before turning on the next guy who was already attempting to run away.

Peter chuckled, a hysterical note lacing his tone. It was probably the exhaustion. Or the blood loss. Or the exhilaration that came with the prospect of being free from pain and escaping this place sooner than he’d previously thought. Huh. Speaking of pain, that was actually starting to recede. Blackness tugged at the edges of his vision, and he briefly wondered whether this was a new part of his accelerated healing before he slumped forwards in his chair.

\-------------------

“Kid!”

It was just after he’d finished restraining the two bad guys, that he saw, out of the corner of his vision, Peter fall forwards, and he rushed to catch him. He was too late, but luckily, the restraints binding him to the chair kept him from faceplanting the ground, and he was left hanging forwards in his seat like a puppet with its strings cut. Whilst one hand kept him sitting up, the other worked to cut through the tough restraints. He felt the all too familiar weight against his chest as Peter fell towards him, as well as the ringing alerts of Peter’s vitals in his ears. Getting stabbed was bad and he needed to get his kid medical attention fast. However, he knew with the boy’s healing that these weren’t serious injuries, and he was glad that he’d managed to find him, thanks to the tracker he’d placed in his suit.

He positioned Peter’s head carefully as he cradled the boy in his arms, before wordlessly moving towards the smashed window and flying back out into the sky. Someone else would come and deal with the aftermath of the criminal base.

A short while later, which felt like entirely too long for Tony whilst his kid bled in his arms, he arrived back at the Tower. Not bothering to un-suit, he marched into the med bay, the doors flinging open in his wake.

He did un-suit when he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair at Peter’s bedside as he watched and waited for his kid to wake up. It was stupid, really. Not that he sat there, but where his thoughts led him. The cuts had been deep and painful for his kid- but not fatal. They’d have only been possibly fatal if he’d been left to bleed out in that dingy basement. Which could have been a probability if he hadn’t had that tracker, he thought with a shudder. These fears distorted the image in front of him of Peter sleeping peacefully. It paled his skin and coated the bedcovers with blood. His breaths shortened and he scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t keep doing this, he-

“Hey- Mr Stark…” Peter’s voice slurred, heavy with drug-induced sleep. His racing thoughts settled and the image ahead of him corrected. There was no way Peter could be lifeless now that he was sitting up and talking. “You alright?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Kid. Take a moment to consider which one of us is in a hospital bed.”

“Yeah,” Peter rolled his eyes, “but you’re doing that face. That face where you’re thinking too much and when Pepper forces you to make another appointment with Dr. Sanders.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just worried about you.” He replied truthfully. The kid did remind him that he’d probably need to have another session with his therapist which was fair, but he didn’t reply to it, not wanting to worry him when he was recovering.

“Well, you saved me.” Peter shrugged. “Not gonna say that it wasn’t scary but… you got there real fast, Mr Stark. Surprisingly fast… you did put that tracker in my suit, didn’t you?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, but now I have a reason to get you not to shout at me about it. And I promise it’s only there for your safety.”

“Okay.” Peter conceded, which was a little surprising, but Tony wasn’t going to complain.

“I… yeah. Speaking of trackers- not that I think it’ll happen again but- just in case you’re not in your suit,” he paused, reaching to grab something from behind him. Peter cut him off before he started, lurching up in bed.

“No- I don’t wanna tracker in me-” he then groaned as this movement pulled at his stitches. Tony gently directed him down to the surface of his bed, taking his wrist carefully and snapping something on to it.

“It’s just a watch, kid. I put a little tracker in one of those kiddie watches, so no one suspects it’s got my tech in it-”

“Oh my God, Mr Stark,” Peter interrupted him for the second time in the span of a minute, “don’t you think that’s a little obvious?”

“I think it’s called hiding in plain sight.” Tony replied. The watch was red and gold, adorned with an Iron Man helmet in the centre of the numbers, with Arc reactor symbols along the straps. “And I think you love it.”

Even with the anxiety of the kidnapping and fear of death, as Tony watched Peter complain and gush over the watch, he found himself feeling a tiny bit safer. His kid was alive. He’d do everything in his power to keep it that way. Which might mean some more upgrades to the features in his suit…


	2. Quiet Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little longer than expected, oops. What can I say, I read a sad book and got distracted mourning a fictional character, oof. But here we go. This one doesn't contain violence, unless you count Tony as violently protective over his spider son.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Peter’s thoughts were loud, sometimes. As was the city of Queens. His spider powers meant that his senses had all become enhanced. This often proved an advantage in fighting. He could close his eyes and be able to sense the danger floating in his midst, jumping gracefully from one target to the next.

They also helped if he was in the spirit of eavesdropping. He preferred to call it gathering extraneous intel. It was useful to hear conversations pertaining to him, which would have otherwise been rendered incomprehensible by doors and walls.

It could also prove to be a nuisance. Muffled shouts from the apartment next door would keep him up at night. The scratching of pens and pencils against paper could prove excruciating within the silent confines of a classroom under test conditions. Sometimes, on more rare but unforgettable occasions, every sound would assault him at once. The buzzing of a bee would grate on his nerves. Quiet coughing on the subway would rattle him. The shrill drill of the school bell would push him to the ground and leave him hugging his knees on the grimy floor of the bathroom.

When it happened at home, he threw himself into bed and forced himself to sleep it off. When it happened outside of the house, he grit his teeth and either found somewhere to hide or put his head down and dealt with it.

The first time it’d happened with Tony present, he’d thought nothing of it. After finding out the reason of his intern’s distress, he’d helped him to bed, before sneaking his suit back to the lab to work on it.

Whilst his mentor had been nothing but sympathetic, Peter felt guilty for worrying the man and it frustrated him to no end that something beyond his control could force him to abandon his plans for the day and curl up in bed. Before the bite, he’d been no stranger to the occasional migraine. Perhaps that made it worse. Upon learning about his advanced healing, he’d assumed that any trivial health problem would go away. Indeed, he rarely got migraines anymore, but they were replaced with these similar sensory episodes.

Like one would with common illnesses and the uncomfortable circumstances that they brought, once each episode had come and gone, Peter pushed it to the back of his mind and hoped that it would never happen again.

He didn’t have to wait long until luck frowned upon him one Monday morning, and cast him aside. He awoke with a dull buzzing in his ears. He could hear the crackling of oil in a frying pan. May was cooking, he thought, head flopping back against the pillow. She… well, she wasn’t the greatest chef. However, he appreciated her cooking and could usually tolerate it. But today, even the sounds of the bacon frying and the wafts of burnt air assaulted his senses.

Whatever. Maybe it was just one of those days where everything felt a little louder- _but not like that one time with the holotables_ , he added in an afterthought, shaking his head. He groaned at the movement, before forcing himself out of bed, and grabbing a bacon sandwich on the way out.

Outside of the apartment was worse. That morning, as he’d been pulled out of sleep, birds had twittered in the sky. Now the birds were drowned out by the scream of engines and commuters and motion. Upon reaching the subway, he’d pulled out his earphones and tried to play some music to calm his senses. This was to no avail. The beat of the drums was like the shockwave that came with an explosion. Peter tore out the music before shaking his head, avoiding the funny looks he received for a few brief moments. Instead of heavy song and tunes, his mind was now filled with harsh breathing, heartbeats, and footsteps.

His thoughts provided an ample distraction for the rest of his journey, spinning an internal debate about why he even had heightened senses in the first place. Spiders didn’t even have ears. He’d taken to his phone for a bit of personal research and came away horrified. Spiders did have pretty remarkable hearing for their size… Still didn’t stop the shudder that ran through him as the articles provided up-close images of the spiders. Gosh, he’d never been more thankful that his powers didn’t turn him into some kind of were-spider.

After shooting a quick text to Ned about this new-found information on spiders, he hopped off the subway and groaned again as the new sounds launched a second attack on his sharpened senses. It felt like the day was going at an agonizingly slow pace. He meandered his way to school, procrastinating. He was not looking forward to the squeak of sneakers against linoleum floors, the shouts of students, the clatter of pencils against tables and- oh god, the bell. Whoever invented the school bell was not held favourably in his mind.

His day brightened a little as he found that, upon reaching the doors to Midtown Tech, he was late. Wow, he really could procrastinate. He did always put 110% into everything he did. He slouched into his first class and found that today he would be the one whose head never left his desk.

Someone chucked a piece of paper at his head, which he could have dodged, given that he’d heard the crackling and crinkling of the paper as it was crushed into a ball. That would require moving, though, and he really wasn’t up for that. Staying perfectly still limited the quantity of sounds around him.

It seemed that he wouldn’t be granted the opportunity to sleep through his classes today, however, when he heard the class go silent around him. He took it as a brief blessing- until he heard the teacher begin to reprimand him.

“Mr Parker, am I boring you?”

Peter huffed, lifting his head from the desk, and immediately squinting at the lights. The contrast was unwelcome, and he began to realise that the sensory episode in Mr Stark’s lab that one time and all the others, may be a more frequent occurrence than he’d thought. He mumbled out a response, hoping that he’d get left alone. It almost seemed like that would happen, but then, of course, Flash couldn’t help but intervene.

“Peni- he hasn’t even written any notes.” He snarked, before oww’ing as MJ threw a paper ball at him. Well, it was good to know who the culprit of the paper balls had been, but he felt it only aggravated the teacher. Not that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, though. He turned briefly to throw MJ a pained smile before raising his eyes to meet the teacher’s. Peter could see Ned mouthing something to him from his other side.

“I’m disappointed, Mr Parker. I won’t write this up, but you’re going to need to stay behind during break to finish off the work.”

Peter groaned, head hitting back against the desk as the teacher walked away to continue scratching notes up on the board. He’d been banking on that break to try and decompress somewhere away from all the sounds, but he’d be fine. He was Spider-Man.

\------------------

Except, it seemed, algebra was Spider-Man’s undoing. He tended to breeze through the subject, finding it excruciatingly easy, but today it just wasn’t working for him. Perhaps it wasn’t the numbers swirling around on his page in front of him. It might have been Mr Harrington, talking about some sort of polynomial functions. Or, the constant hubbub of noise around him, sourced mainly from Flash’s desk at the back.

Peter groaned. The clock ticked slowly and became louder every second. Just half an hour. Half an hour, and then he could curl up at home and- oh, right. It wasn’t an internship day, but he remembered the text he’d received earlier. May had to work later, and she’d prefered if Tony kept an eye on him at the Tower. Ned had found this particularly cool. Peter hadn’t. Not that he didn’t love spending time with Tony but… when _this_ was happening again, he knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

He got what the man meant, when he told him to tell him if he was ever hurting or needed help. He got that. But he found himself reluctant to speak those few words. Especially after the kidnapping incident, he could feel the worry that came off of his mentor in waves and he hated to add to it. Not to mention the fact that he felt Tony saw him as an inexperienced kid who needed protecting. He wanted to prove himself.

Perhaps he should have proved himself with something else. It wasn’t his fault that he had a headache, or- whatever this sensory thing was called. It was because of his powers (and probably the lack of sleep, but we don’t talk about that). If this had been a tough criminal, he could have webbed them to a wall or taken them down. It didn’t appear that any amount of brute force or willpower could shift the sensitivity and pain that racked him, and finally, as Flash shouted out an answer in an obnoxiously loud voice, Peter snapped.

“I- I got to go,” He murmured, pushing out of his seat, grabbing his bag, and moving to exit the classroom. Flash, situated at the back of the room, jumped out of his seat, and shook his head.

“No- Mr Harrington, Penis is trying to escape—” He shouted, and Peter cursed, holding his hands over his ears. He wasn’t sure what his teacher replied, but it must have been something good because Flash looked like he was about to explode with rage as he moved out of Peter’s way.

\----------------

He took to sitting outside the school, in a more secluded area in the car park. The city noise was loud, but it was dispersed, and not the confined, jarring sounds of the classroom. Peter propped himself against his backpack, straining his eyes against the general brightness of the day. He must have gotten too comfortable and drifted off, because when he looked up next, the area was bustling with students and Happy was shaking his shoulder.

“Kid- kid? What are you doing out here?”

Peter blinked, looking up at him before pushing himself to his feet. His head throbbed. The feeling had gotten slightly better, but he didn’t notice this as his senses were aggravated by the sudden noise around them. Happy got the message, walking behind him towards the car and pushing ahead to open the door for him. For once, Peter didn’t notice the man’s strangely protective gestures, as he instead huddled into the backseat and closed his eyes.

The drive to the Tower was quiet, aside from the quiet snoring from the backseat. Happy felt bad to wake the kid when they arrived, but he figured carrying him would be something neither of them wanted to do, and if he walked into the lab holding the kid in his arms, Tony would definitely freak.

He ended up ushering the boy into the elevator, making the split-second decision not to come up with him. This felt like something the kid and his mentor would need to figure out themselves. Given that the spider boy wasn’t bleeding out or collapsing, he didn’t see a safety issue. He just gave a small wave and a, “Hope you feel better soon, kid,” and hoped also, that Peter’s school hadn’t called Tony about how he’d probably skipped a class or two.

\--------

“Hey, Mr Stark.”

After being picked up by Happy and dozing in the car, he’d come to a sleepy decision. It’d gotten slightly better, so he wouldn’t need to tell Tony about it, and they could do some work on his suit and watch a movie afterwards like they usually did.

However, it appeared that Happy’s last wish hadn’t come true.

“So, the school rang.” Tony said as a way of greeting. Peter’s face fell. He placed his bag beside his desk and sat down on his stool, spinning away from Tony to fiddle with some project he’d started a week or so ago.

“Apparently you ditched your last lesson.” Peter groaned, shaking his head. He couldn’t tell if Tony sounded concerned or annoyed, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted the school to have given context or not.

“I swear I didn’t mean to, Mr Stark- but Flash was just—” he paused as he felt Tony come closer to him before placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “It was nothing, he was just being annoying, and I got mad at him and…”

“Look, kid, we both know that’s not the truth.” Tony replied, voice much softer, pulling a chair beside Peter’s and trying to get a look at his face. “Hey? I know things have been busy lately, and that… Mr… uh, Barrington or something- he said that you don’t usually do stuff like that. He was just worried.”

Peter sniffed. Somehow that felt worse. Maybe it was just the thrumming in his skull or maybe it was the tiredness, but he didn’t like being cause of someone’s concern.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, before flinching as Tony shifted closer to him, knocking something loudly aside by accident. Glancing higher to his mentor’s face, he crumpled. Drawing it out was just concerning him more, and he sighed. “Okay- it’s nothing- it’s just, just one of those things again. I swear it’s not that bad but it’s just like last time when the holo table broke and my ears were already hurting and—”

He stilled as Tony gently drew his Spider-Man mask over his face and mumbled something about a ‘quiet protocol’. Somehow, the light of the lab and sun shining in the windows dimmed, and the sounds around him became much softer and quieter.

“I had a feeling. I talked to Bruce and he helped me sort something out. Pete, I understand why you didn’t tell me,” he whispered. “I’ve been kinda… kinda…”

“Helicopter parent-y?” Peter supplied with a chuckle.

Tony rolled his eyes. “First Pepper, then Happy, now you- okay, yes. I know I got some stuff to work on but- don’t feel like you can’t come to me for help, okay, kiddo? Now. The mask will help but I think getting some proper rest would be good. I finished kitting out your room so—”

Despite the aching, Peter brightened. “You really did make a room for me? Oh my gosh, Mr Stark, thank you—”

Tony kept an air of nonchalance, although couldn’t help but feel fond at the kid’s excitement. “Yeah, yeah. I did. Just like I worked out that protocol in your suit for you. It’s all part of the deal.”

Whilst Tony made it sound business-like, Peter felt warmth in his heart and he smiled widely beneath the mask, gingerly hugging his mentor before moving to get out of his seat.

“Thanks, Mr Stark. You’re the best. And I promise I’ll say something next time—”

“I won’t hold you to it, but I like your ambition, kid.”

“I will! Promise!” Peter replied, before moving back into the elevator and leaning against the wall, humming.

‘ _Where to, Master Peter?’_ FRIDAY queried, and Peter smiled once more.

“My room, FRIDAY.” That would never get old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let's hope the next chappie is out a little sooner. And feel free to leave a comment, I love reading them.


	3. Vitals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Perhaps this was meant to be a sickfic, but I chickened out, I'm not a fan of writing those kinds of descriptions. I might in the future though. This one still has good old Irondad hurt/comfort in it. As always, it features: Helicopter parent Tony Stark. He's trying his best, though. He'll get better at this gig eventually.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As the sensory issues began to calm down, with the help of carefully crafted tech from Tony, Sod’s Law (better known as Murphy’s Law, but he preferred to say the other version as it proved a good verbal anger outlet, much to Tony’s…confusion) dictated that he would pay for the benefits of his superpowers in some way.

He could rarely get sick, which Peter was ever thankful for. He did have to eat all the time, which he could usually get a good handle on. Before the bite, he ate fairly healthily. Once the stress of tests and high school and Spider-Man hit him, his diet was forsaken, eating what a typical stressed teenager would. He ate enough to keep himself functioning, throwing in an overabundance of sweets and fizzy drinks to stay awake just that little bit longer.

Overall, he’d say that he was healthy, though. He got a good amount of exercise out of patrolling and hitting the gym at the Tower, to make good use of the specially crafted weights and devices to help a powered person keep their fitness levels up.

Peter was more of a physics and maths guy, than one who was into biology. He did know a few things about vitamins and minerals from chemistry, but he didn’t tend to apply this to a functioning human body. He would take making a robot or prototype technology over that any day.

When he worked in the lab with Tony for hours on end into the late hours of the evening, this was the time when he ate the most unhealthily. He thought it was the best. They ordered in pizzas, ate snacks, and picked at the bowl of assorted candy that lay between them as they worked. It had an improvised lid which they’d crafted one day, when a piece of metal had flicked off a project they’d been working on and fell into the bowl, hissing and fizzing, white hot. Peter had grumbled and crowed on about having enhanced healing, but Tony refused to let him eat around the burning piece of metal.

Asides from occasional incidents, lab times were undoubtedly one of Peter’s favourite times of every week. Especially this week, as he got to choose the pizza flavour.

“Pineapple on pizza?” Tony had complained, a look of disgust on his face which was countered with the warm fondness in his eyes. “You heathen. You uncultured swine.”

“You had olives last time, Mr Stark. _Olives._ ” Peter had countered, then holding his hand in the air in a shush’ing motion when Tony moved to argue back. “Ah-ah, zip it. The adult is talking.”

Tony chucked a gummy worm from the candy bowl at him. “You wish.” He’d murmured, before they continued on with their work, tinkering away at new gauntlets for him, until FRIDAY announced that the pizza had arrived.

Peter opted to get it. “Who knows what you might do with them- pick off the pineapple or something.” Of course, he didn’t really believe this, but he was feeling the need to stretch his legs. And, okay… maybe he was a _little_ protective of his pineapple pizzas.

When he rose from his lab stool, he had to pause for a moment and shake his head. Ugh, headrush truly sucked. It’d been getting worse lately, the blackness sometimes swallowing his vision and making him thankful he hadn’t fallen down in the time it’d been present. Maybe he should have told Tony about this, but he was still concerned about how overly protective and worried the man got over him, and besides, it was probably due to the fact that he wasn’t getting so much sleep these days.

(Maybe he should’ve mentioned that too, but it’s the same excuse. Maybe he should also mention his concern about his mentor too, but we’re going to end up going in circles here.)

He shook his head, grumbling as the brief rushing in his ears, like he’d just come out from underwater, signalled that the dizziness had finished, and he continued onwards, glad that his mentor had been busy with his task and hadn’t noticed. Skipping up the stairs, he returned shortly with the selection of pizzas, placing them on the table and grinning as he opened them to find they were the Hawaiian ones that he’d asked Tony to order.

It seemed as if the universe was also on the opposite side of the ‘does pineapple go on pizza’ debate, as, just when Peter had finished his first pizza and was moving on to the second, an alarm sounded, indicating that there was some serious crime or Avengers business going on that they needed to get to.

“Ugh- we’re ordering more afterwards,” Peter demanded with a shake of his head, grabbing his suit from the side, and perching behind the lab desk to quickly change into it. “What’s the damage?”

“Just some regular bank robbery with advanced tech, kid.” Tony informed him, getting into his suit, which gave notice of just how advanced the tech in the wrong hands was.

“Wow.” Peter shook his head, in awe yet again as he watched his mentor dramatically suit up, tapping the emblem and allowing the pieces of metal to form parts of the suit individually on his body, like some sort of anime power-up scene. “Oh- and that’s a lot of damage.”

“Hmm?” Tony inquired, the golden faceplate of the Iron Man suit snapping on as he turned to look at Peter.

“Oh- nothing. Just. The weapons. They’re a lot of damage. You know, to the bank and… it’s a meme. Never mind, Mr Stark.”

\-------------

By the time they reached the bank, a lot of damage had been caused. Luckily, the criminals hadn’t had the chance to kill anybody yet, which the two heroes were thankful for.

“You get the civilians- I’ve got these guys.” Tony tried to take over, something which had become annoyingly frequent in their brief missions together. Peter did as he was told for the most part, swinging in and out of the building with the people huddled around the airy room, dodging hits on his way back and forth. When he was moving the last of the civilians, however, he couldn’t help but notice that the fight was far from over.

“Need some help over there, Mr Stark?” Peter called across, after dropping the last few people a safe distance away, before starting towards the battle anyway.

“I’m fine- I got it—” Tony interjected as he was hit by one of the weapons, falling back briefly, which just about settled Peter’s decisions. He got that Tony saw him as inexperienced, and their out of hero father-son relationship had definitely made him more protective, so here, he saw a chance that he could prove himself to be the Avenger he was. Okay… he had turned down being an Avenger last time, but he was still a capable superhero.

He jumped into the fray, grasping a weapon with a thin line of webbing, shattering it against the wall. “You know, I don’t think those are very good for the environment, mister criminal,” he quipped, “they’re single use plastic and don’t even last that long—” His sentence cut out as his spider senses blared and he turned just in time to dodge a blast of energy. It hit the wall instead, sending bills spewing out of a nearby machine.

“Kid—” he could hear Tony interjecting something, but his attention was paid on the fight at hand. This was an art form; it was a dance. The beat of his heart served as the metronome, his quips were his song, and the foray of punches and kicks was his style of dance. He swung across the room, his webs plastering against walls and toes pointed out, pirouetting into a criminal and knocking him to the ground. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, and he froze, before closing his eyes and allowing himself to be hoisted into the air, before he turned out, arms stretched out, fists clenched, spinning, and shooting a web over the guy’s eyes. A shout tore from the man’s throat as he was knocked to the ground. Peter heard another come from behind him and he used the assistance of his super strength to lift his felled foe and toss them nimbly into the oncoming threat, knocking the two to the ground like bowling pins. As Tony’s criminal dropped, he turned to see his ward, and a shocked smile plastered his face as the mask clicked open.

“That was…”

“It was so cool- right, Mr Stark?” Peter bounced excitedly on his toes. “Training with Natasha has really helped my combat—”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. I think you were right earlier- you’re the adult talking in this situation. I didn’t trust you. Well- I did, underoos. I just didn’t want you getting hurt.” Tony continued. “I messed up. I was trying to find that line between parenting and patching you up. I overstepped, I didn’t let you fight, and you’ve obviously just shown me that… that…”

Peter had beamed at the praise, initially. As the adrenaline of the fight wore down, he found himself having to take a breath. Phew. It felt akin to coming down from a sugar high- he was feeling a little shaky and dizzy. He brushed it off, eagerly listening to Tony’s words but finding himself tuning out. He began to wonder if his suit was malfunctioning as blackness tugged at his vision and he shook his head, attempting to clear it, but it didn’t help. He leaned to the side, hand flailing and finding the jagged edge of a broken glass desk to prop himself up on. “Iss nothing,” he assured his mentor in a breathy voice, whose blurry face was creased with concern. “Imma Avenger, heh…” His ears rung, noises becoming the static of broken audio, his heart thumping louder and louder.

“Kiddo… you… kay? Peter… your vitals say…” He didn’t get to find out what they said or get the chance to express his shock at their being a vitals function in his suit. Well, either that, or Karen had become a little snitch. He stepped forwards to attempt to regain his balance, but felt his legs give way at once. He heard a clanking of metal and a soft whisper in his ears, before the blackness won and his head lolled back.

\----------------

Tony felt terrible.

The timing had given the effect that his speech about his overprotective, helicopter parent nature, had somehow led to Peter fainting in his arms. He found himself increasingly grateful that he’d had the hindsight only a few days previously to get the Vitals scanner in Peter’s suit fully up and running, because if he hadn’t been given the warning, it was likely that he wouldn’t have caught his kid and instead he’d have brained himself on the floor, resulting in a head injury of some sort.

This didn’t leave him any less worried, but it did leave him with the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, he should amend his ways. He knew, even with his anxieties, that he hadn’t been malicious in his actions. But overcrowding Peter had led to more problems than good, as was apparent from this most recent issue.

He sat at his boy’s bedside, worries building in his chest as Bruce fussed over the monitors, finding the cause of Peter’s collapse. He was about ready to hear that it was nothing, probably just nerves or something, which would of course be down to Tony and he’d feel even wor—

“It appears his iron levels are incredibly low, Tony.” Bruce interrupted his rambling thoughts, causing the genius to turn to him with raised brows. “He’s anaemic. Which probably makes sense with how fast metabolism. However, with the diet I proposed to him last time, I was hoping that he’d be able to maintain healthy levels but… we’ll have to go with some supplements.”

Bruce finished shortly, noticing that the boy was waking up, and, picking up on the tension in the room, he mumbled something about coming back later before exiting the room.

Tony watched as Peter sat up, looked with wide eyes as he found himself in the med bay, before looking to his mentor. “Uh… hi? Uhm…” he cleared his throat as an awkward silence hung between them. “What, uh, what happened?”

“The mission went fine- you did great, kiddo. Then, you fainted. Not so great on the eating front…”

Peter’s brows furrowed together. “I could’ve sworn we had some pizza before, though, Mr Stark. Although this does happen sometimes. The, uh, fainting, that is. I’m sure it’s just a Spider-Man thing though—”

“You’re anaemic, kid.” Tony thought it kindest to end his concerns. “Yeah, I know, colour me shocked. I guess this is something your enhanced healing couldn’t make up for. You got to have more iron in your diet, kiddo. And- what do you mean, other times.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I thought I had you for that,” Peter quipped, attempting to ignore the last part of what the man had said, before withering under his gaze. “Okay, okay. it was only a couple- uhm, a few times. And just at school. I assumed it’s just ‘cause I stay up late patrolling sometimes- or revising,” he quickly added, “but it wasn’t too often. Sometimes I get dizzy when I stand up, but I thought that was just, y’know, headrush. Or something. But I guess this makes sense…”

Tony took a breath. This kid. “Okay, well, there you have it. I don’t know why you couldn’t tell—” he paused. That sounded like a Howard thing to say. “I do know. I’ve mentioned it before, that I’ve been too fussy and too protective of you- and when I say this time that I’ll work on it, I mean it, capiche?” The fact that his kid had hid this from him was definitely a wake-up call.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “I know I shoulda told you. But- all that aside, because I know this is getting too soppy for you, Mr Stark,” he chuckled, “thanks for, well, for catching me. Concussions suck so- yeah, I guess I’m saying thanks for putting that stuff in my suit. Even if it feels a little Facebook-esque to me…” he added jokingly.

“That’s it, I’m making my own social media, so you’ve got no excuse to keep banging on about that app. It’ll be… Starkgram.”

“Pretty sure that’s plagiarism for Instagram, but—”

“Iron Man.” He deadpanned.

Peter stared at him. “That’s just… just your… superhero name.”

“Yeah?” Tony smirked, before reaching across and ruffling his hair. “Whatever. You name it then.”

He meant it as sarcasm, but Peter’s face lit up and he began to spam out so many different names in high levels of excitement that he couldn’t possibly say no to the boy. Even if he’d given him more grey hairs than he could count, he loved that kid. And, whilst it’d take time and practice, he was sure he’d find that line between caring and smotheringly overprotective one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you guys think of this fic in the comments.


	4. Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lot more fluffy than the other ones, so less whumpy, but I hope you enjoy regardless! (next one'll definitely be back to angst)

There was a reason Tony had picked Peter as his intern and had unofficially adopted him as his kid. Well, there were a multitude of reasons, but the main one was how well they got on. Even if their similarities sometimes ended in a dispute, as great minds often did, their personalities worked like a smooth machine. Their differences would mean that there weren’t two Tony Starks- because, simply put, two Tony Starks would end in dire consequences. They may kill each other. Two Peter Parkers would mean zero father figures, something the boy didn’t long for.

Peter was more modest than his mentor, and Tony was more confident. Peter was a reckless hero at times, whilst Tony (had learned) to take a moment to let FRIDAY scan a dangerous situation before diving in headfirst.

Some similarities that Peter shared with his mentor had been further cultivated through his prolonged time spent with the man, but he wouldn’t complain. Even if it did mean he swore a little more than he’d used to or stood up to Flash a more often.

Sometimes, it proved more troublesome. Work ethics were great but working himself into the ground was another thing. Tony tended to spend long and restless hours working in the lab when he should have been sleeping or taking a break. He often had Pepper to tap him on the shoulder and drag him away from his projects long enough to get a few winks of sleep or some food.

Peter’s similar habit had grown exponentially since his time knowing the man, and whilst they could control each other if they were both in the lab, when they were alone, it was another matter. Sometimes, Peter would find himself working into the late hours of the night on homework due in a few days’ time, not thinking to stop, with May working a night shift at the hospital.

Whilst this would just result in unfortunately falling asleep somewhere he shouldn’t the next day, his bad habit was not just confined to written work and lab projects. Spider-Man was his main outlet of proper exercise for a superhuman, and the main time that he felt fully alive. The rush of swinging from building to building, stopping criminals, and saving lives, felt almost addictive.

Thus, he had a curfew in place for a reason. After getting Ned to hack the suit and getting the suit confiscated, he found there was no way to get out of this curfew. Of course, on days at the weekend, when he’d already finished with schoolwork, when his friends were busy, May was at work, and it wasn’t a day to spend with Tony, Peter found that he could go out as early as he liked as Spider-Man and be out practically all day. Begrudgingly, he tended to stop to eat a snack or rest on the top of a building, dangling his legs over the edge.

However, on the busy days, one of which he was currently having, where it appeared that criminals had forgotten all social norms and matters of common human decency, and had all took to the streets at once, he found it unbearable to just sit to the side for a moment to take a breather.

He’d already stopped a handful of muggings and a bank robbery, and it was only just nearing midday. “They must’ve put some crazy criminal juice in the water,” he quipped breathlessly as he webbed up the last perpetrator of the robbery, “you’ve all gone nuts today. And that’s saying something, ‘cause you’re all crazy anyways.”

After seeing the cops were arriving, he swiftly swung out of the scene, jumping onto the nearest building to watch as the criminals were found and taken into the back of a police car. He noted that even the cops looked fed up with the quantity of crime in the streets that day. He couldn’t blame them. He was just starting to feel the need to grab some food and chill out on top of a tall building (maybe Stark Tower), when yet another alert of crime was reported to him by Karen.

“Ugh- what is it this time? It’s just a cat up a tree, right? No, scratch that,” he shook his head as he pushed himself to his feet, “If it’s going to be cats then it’ll probably be the whole darned pet shop up there.”

_‘It is not a feline situation, Peter. I am detecting a robbery at a convenience store not far from here.’_

“Seriously?” He muttered, tapping his web shooters before swinging off in that direction. “Didn’t they hear that someone _literally_ just robbed a place this side of town already- they’re copying.”

He quickly rolled into the store as he reached the location, eyes widening as he took in the amount of people trying to rob the store.

“It’s tiny- why didn’t these guys rob the bank—” He hissed.

_‘I am unsure, Peter. I would advise, as per the ‘take a break’ protocol, that you rest soon. Your sugar levels will soon be low, and you have been out today for a total of—’_

“Not now, Karen. Afterwards. Promise.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes as he heard about yet another thing the man had put in his suit. Honestly, it was like his mentor thought he couldn’t look after himself. He wasn’t arguing that he could, though, but it would have been nice to have the support.

He ducked behind a shelf filled with cereals as he took in the weapons of the goons. They were all dressed in clown masks, which was freaky, but, he reminded himself, not a weapon. Instead, they had guns. All six of the robbers had guns. He shrugged; he could take them out one by one.

Peter ducked out from the behind the shelf, skidding across the floor as he knocked the first goon’s feet out from under him, before pushing him backwards into the aisle. The man stumbled, before falling back onto the boxes, sending boxes of frosted flakes everywhere.

He didn’t have long to react before the remaining five turned on him, the first moving to punch him in the face, completely ignoring the fact that they held a gun, and Peter easily dodged the hit before serving one of his own, knocking them to the ground, wincing at how their head hit the ground and they were knocked out.

He couldn’t round so easily on the last four. They were smarter than their last friend, aiming their guns at Peter. He held his hands in fake surrender.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that it’s not nice to point guns at people like that?”

“Get out, Spider-guy,” the middle man warned, who was wearing the most creative clown mask, with a red nose and fangs and all. “If you don’t want any trouble, get out.”

“Hey, that’s not nice. Also, the clown thing was years ago- we’re over that—” He suddenly ducked down and shot out a web, which grasped the man’s gun. He swiftly threw it into the face of the next man, who staggered backwards into the last criminal. They fell down swiftly like dominos.

“Yep,” Peter smirked, popping the ‘p’, “I can tell why you guys weren’t the bank robbers. That was lame.” He yawned, stumbling a little as he felt briefly woozy, and shortly took in that Karen was probably right about having needed to take a break, before hearing the thundering of footsteps as one of the robbers took the opportunity to run away.

“Hey—” he shouted, glancing briefly to check that the five other bad guys were out for the count, before stumbling out of the shop to give chase. The guy had turned down through an alleyway and Peter began to pursue him before there was a loud beep in his ear. He wondered if he’d gone into the road and was going to be hit by yet another moving vehicle, when he realised that it had come from his suit.

 _’Peter, desist. You promised that you would take a break after you apprehended those criminals.’_ She accused him, sounding a little like a scolding parent.

“But, Kareeeennn,” he stomped his foot, “that guy’s getting away.”

_‘And other law enforcements have already been notified about his escape and where he has gone to. You are to take a break and allow others to deal with the situation, or I will have to contact Mr Stark. Your blood sugar levels are now deemed low and—’_

Peter grumbled. “Karen, mute.” He hoped this would deal with the situation as he began to move towards the alleyway, but was stopped immediately by another beep, and then, the unmistakeable sound of ringing.

_‘Tony Stark is calling.’_

“I told you to mu—hey, Mr Stark.”

The man’s face stared out reproachfully at him from the display in his suit. “Cut the crap, kid. Karen just told me what’s up. Now, you can either explain to me why you’re insisting getting this one guy—or you can get your butt somewhere safe and take a break.”

“Ugh, everyone keeps saying that. I’m fine, really. But it doesn’t matter, that guy’s probably got away—”

“Actually, the police have just arrested him. So.” Tony looked at him, unblinking. He squirmed under the man’s gaze. “Let’s try this again. Is there somewhere you can get food, or do you want me to fly something out to you?”

Peter paused, glancing up and swinging towards a building so Spider-Man would no longer be standing awkwardly outside a robbed convenience store. “Uh, you can do that? Wait- never mind. What have you got?”

“Well, what do you want?” Tony deadpanned. “Look, kid, I’m not a freaking take out service—”

“Pizza!” Peter suddenly decided upon, sitting back on the rooftop, shuffling up so he wasn’t near to the edge. “With anything. Thanks, Mr Stark.”

“Fine. It’ll be there in five. You want olives on it, right?”

Peter glared at his picture on the display. “Imma go back down there and start—”

“Okay, okay. Cheese it is. With… some pineapple. One piece. One.”

“You’re the best! Love you—” He grinned as the call cut off, sitting back, and staring up at the sky. His stomach rumbled quietly in the background and he felt proud, somehow, of his mentor. Even if he’d just been the one who was trying to break the man’s in-suit protocols, he felt that Tony hadn’t completely overreacted. If it had been a few weeks prior, he probably would’ve scooped him out of the sky in his Iron Man suit and force fed him. Okay… maybe that was an exaggeration, but still, to see that the man wasn’t being overly protective, was refreshing. He wondered if that was how his mentor felt whenever he- well, didn’t screw something up.

As he thought of the man, he heard a whirring as the Iron Man suit stepped down in front of him, holding a few boxes of pizza. So, maybe he hadn’t entirely got there yet, but they were working on it.

“Move over, heathen, and eat your Hawaiian crap.”

Peter smiled. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment below, I love reading them.


	5. Karen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is certainly back to angst. I'd say it's the angstiest of the lot. I'll put in warnings for insomnia, feelings of loneliness, and perhaps negative thoughts (but nothing above a teen rating for sure). And there's definitely comfort at the end, although in a different form to the other chapters.   
> This one's the shortest, although it somehow took the longest to write xd.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Some nights, the hours would draw on in long, unforgiving eternities. Peter would toss and turn. He would stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks, and the knots in his oak bedroom door. Unlike at the Tower, where his Iron Man night light would glow red and gold, illuminating his room and surrounding him in a protective warmth, his bedroom at home was only lit by the cold streak of moonlight glimmering through his window.

He wasn’t sure what kept him awake. Sometimes, his mind would supply moments he’d rather forget. The echo of a gun. His uncle’s dying words. A civilian he couldn’t save. The taunts of Flash and the snickers of his classmates. The memories would leave him feeling shaken, but his insomnia could be briefly remedied by visiting May’s room or calling Tony.

Other times, which he couldn’t be sure if they were worse or not, he couldn’t know the cause. The only thoughts would be that time was ticking on, and he’d be filled with a sense of numbness. Unable to know the reason of his distress, at least not directly, he would find no comfort in the arms of his parental figures and would turn back to his thoughts.

Such a night was the present. The last time Peter had checked the time on the bright flickering screen of his phone, it had been half past one in the morning. Too late to give up hope of sleep, and too early to feel guiltless when asking for help.

He’d already surveyed every aspect of his room, noting the differences when each item was shrouded in the cape of darkness. He’d gotten up twice, one of these times was to check that a jacket on the back of his desk chair wasn’t a silent murderer watching him sleep.

Of course, his mind suggested, that might have been better, because at least then, he would have been sleeping. He couldn’t shake the thought of sleeping from his mind. Perhaps that was why it was so hard to obtain. His sudden obsession with closing his eyes and falling into darkness and nonsensical dreams was extreme.

Peter couldn’t tell what the reason for tonight’s round of insomnia was, other than a hollow feeling, something akin to loneliness. It didn’t feel right- he was Spider-Man. And more than that, he had Tony. May. Ned. MJ. Perhaps it had been an irrational fear constructed in his mind from the way he saw how many loved ones that other people had. It was stupid, he knew. He appreciated every person in his life. That was what irrational meant, however.

Ned and MJ had been absent from school that day, away on a trip for a class that they both shared but Peter didn’t. Bearing the day in classes without them had felt impossible. Flash had sensed his vulnerability and had made sure to point out to everyone when Peter tripped in the hallway as he rushed to get to 5th period.

It had been a Thursday. Peter was excited for his Friday lab day but couldn’t help but wish that he could’ve seen Tony after school. May was working a late shift, leaving him alone in the apartment. At first, he’d patrolled, and had been filled with a sense of activity and vitality as he webbed up criminals.

When he shucked off the mask to eat dinner alone, working through some chemistry homework, the loneliness had hit him. He pushed it to the back of his mind, although did nothing to quiet the niggling thoughts as he worked through balancing equations. Outside of Spider-Man, his life was starting to feel dull.

At least during the day, he’d been able to be distracted by a constant stream of activity, from work to patrolling to food. Now he was left alone with his thoughts in bed, and the irrationality increased. The way that time felt so slow left him with the feeling of being stuck in a rut. He wanted to reach out to someone but had the thought that he would just wake someone up and disturb them.

He glanced to his phone on the nightstand. His eyes burned from looking at the screen, and the air in his room was stifling. Peter pushed himself out of bed, standing still with wide eyes, giving the appearance of a rabbit in the headlights. He darted to the side, grabbing the Spider-Man mask out of his backpack, and pulled open his bedroom window.

As he tugged the mask over his face and shimmied out of the window, coming to sit on the edge of the window ledge, he took a long, deep breath. Even with the fabric of the mask over his face, the night air stirred cold and lively in his lungs. The streets in Queens were almost silent, aside from the occasional rattle of traffic.

The fresh air was a welcome break. However, looking out from the window of his apartment, he felt small. A single life staring out into the vast world, with so many lives and so many different stories.

He’d never felt more alone.

Peter shook his head, mentally reprimanding himself. There’d been worse times. Like the night he’d realised that his parents were never coming back from that plane. Or when Uncle Ben was truly gone. Thinking like that wasn’t going to help anything.

He took a long draw of breath. Even if it’d been worse before, that didn’t mean that right now was perfect. Peter hugged his arms around himself, gaze drawing down to the streets below. Everything was so quiet, silent, maybe—

_‘Peter, as per your curfew, if you go out in your suit now, I will have to contact Mr Stark.’_

The boy startled, shaking his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“No, Karen- it’s fine. I’m, I’m just wearing the mask. I’m not… going out.”

There was silence for a few more moments. He wondered if Karen was going to ask anything else, before chuckling drily. She was his suit AI. She wouldn’t—

_‘May I ask why you’re out so late, Peter? It’s getting late and you told me earlier that you have a Spanish quiz tomorrow.’_

He stilled, drawing his gaze up from the ground and out towards the distant buildings. “I, uh… I just wanted a break.” He paused. “Couldn’t sleep.”

_‘Would you like me to contact—’_

“No! No. No.” He kicked his legs over the edge, swinging them loosely back and forth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… snap. I just- I don’t want to disturb Mr Stark. I’m fine.”

_‘As you are not patrolling past curfew, I do not have to inform him. Of course, he always would like you to know that you can contact him at any time, for any reason.’_

Peter smiled, bringing his arms back down, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “Thanks. It’s just pretty late, and… this isn’t really anything. It’s stupid.”

_‘I wouldn’t say that, Peter. Is there a reason you’re willing to tell me why you are unable to sleep? I can assure you that it’s not stupid. FRIDAY has informed me that Mr Stark often suffers from a similar ailment.’_

He shifted. “Really?” It felt a little comforting to hear that he wasn’t alone in this. “Maybe, maybe I’ll talk to him about it sometime… but. No. I mean. It’s nothing. It’s just…” he stammered. “I just felt lonely, I guess. Ned and MJ weren’t at school today and, and Flash was- aggravating. I guess I just felt kinda lonely.” He repeated.

_‘That is understandable. Everyone goes through difficult times in their lives. Even when you have loved ones who are close, you can feel lonely. It’s of no fault of your own, or the people around you. But, even when you can’t talk to anyone, I want you to know that you’re not alone, Peter. I am here to help you.’_

The AI’s words felt warmer and less robotic as she spoke. Peter couldn’t help but smile, feeling Tony speak through her. “Yeah, I… that helps. Thank you, Karen.”

_‘It is not a problem, Peter. I am always here to talk with you. Now, I would suggest that you come inside.’_ As if she sensed his hesitancy, the AI continued. _‘You can always leave the window open, and as long as no one can see from your window, you can keep on your mask.’_

Peter complied slowly, pushing the window down a little as he stepped inside, but leaving it open enough so that a soft breeze filtered into his room. He took a breath, pulling back his bedcovers and flopping onto his side.

_‘I understand that you are above the expected age range, but may I suggest a story? Mr Stark has relayed to me through FRIDAY some stories from his past battles in case you were ever in need of hearing them.’_

He nodded, slowly, placing his head on the pillow and letting his eyes fall shut. “Yeah, okay… Yeah. That would be nice.”

So, she began. With Karen whispering into his ear tales that created a vibrant image of his mentor in mind, he found himself placed into the scenes, into places bustling with colour and life. He could see Tony’s smile and hear the banter he threw to the Avengers team and the bad guys. With everything alive around him, and the people he loved fresh in his mind, he began to feel less alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment below, I love hearing your feedback.


	6. (+1) Oxygen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah did it take me almost two months to get out the last chapter? Perhaps. Life got in the way, I wasn't actually sure what to write for the last chapter-- and then, lo and behold, I watched Spider-Man: Homecoming again the other day, and got an idea for the chapter! Better late than never.
> 
> I think I should put a warning in this chapter that it contains: drowning, and pretty graphic descriptions of it at that. Read safely!

It seemed like Tony had prepared for every occasion with his suit. A tracker to save him from being kidnapped, alerts on his vitals so he didn’t die from his self-sacrificial nature- practically everything.

However, there were some things that even technology couldn’t prepare for.

The suit was spandex. Whilst a number of things could be kept inside its slim material (a parachute, for example), anything bulky would require a larger area.

When Peter began to fight the villain known as Sharkwing, he didn’t think that he was going to run into a problem that would require skills outside of what his suit had. This villain was crazy, and that was saying something. Of course, crazy didn’t always mean bad—in this case, it meant that they’d made fatal mistakes in their weapons and goals, making it easy for Peter to pinpoint a weakness.

Sharkwing could swim and fly, he’d found out shortly into the fight. They had large fins on both sides of their suit, and a pair of clunky metal wings, not unlike those of the Vulture.

Karen had easily notified him of an error in the suit—due to being able to swim, the villain had made it so that their metal wings could be detached from their suit. So, when Sharkwing began to fly into the air, above the crowds of scurrying civilians, Peter shot out a web which attached to one of the villain’s sharp metal wings.

As he found himself being dragged through the city of Queens at a tremendous speed, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course, he always found himself in these sorts of situations. It seemed that the villain underestimated him, making no effort to detach the spider hanging from his wing, and thus not noticing as Peter began to pull himself up the web, closer and closer to the villain.

Finally, he reached the wing, and swung himself onto the back of Sharkwing. Shooting one web from each hand, one onto each wing, he began to pull upwards and laughed as the villain was in his control, steering upwards.

“This is some really messed up version of _Ratatouille._ ” He chuckled, gripping tightly to the villain as they noticed his presence and attempted to swerve violently to knock him off. “Ah-ah, I’m Remy, I get to be in charge here. C’mon, man, I just want to help you— be—better—” He groaned as his thin webbing began to fray.

Wasting no time, he let go of one of the webs in order to get to work on disabling the metal wings. Working fast, he had Karen show him an X-ray of the device and began to work at once on pulling off small pieces of metal. It proved successful when the wings began to sputter with sparks, and he considered it a victory when the wings came completely loose.

He held on tightly to Sharkwing as they began to plummet towards the ground, wrapping a thick band of webbing around the person, before looking up and aiming with his other hand, wondering where to shoot a web to bring them both to safety. However, it quickly became clear to him that they were in a more rural area all of a sudden, and they were plummeting towards a lake.

Hitting the surface was rough, however Peter managed to kick his legs swiftly to stay afloat. He’d had basic swimming lessons (ones which Tony had paid for and demanded he take after the incident with the Vulture dropping him in a lake).

As he breached the surface and took in a greedy lungful of air, Peter glanced about for the villain. Either, the man would be afloat and easy to drag out of the water. Or, he’d have to go back under the save him (since, villain or not, he wasn’t going to let someone die under his watch).

However, Sharkwing was nowhere in sight. Heart racing, he kicked his legs forwards, calling out in a wavering tone, “Sharkwing! Sharkwing! Hey, boy, c’mon, come to P—Spider-Man!” His eyes scanned the surface, and it was then that he noticed the bubbles on the water, indicating that someone was below.

Groaning, he took a breath, steeling himself to dive under and make a rescue attempt, when he was roughly pulled under.

It was a good thing that he’d taken that breath, Peter thought, before water was rushing in his ears.

Of course, Sharkwing could swim. It was literally in their name and he could’ve sworn he’d seen the fins on their suit before. Fighting underwater was a less than pleasant experience. He flailed, grabbing the person’s wrists and attempting to pull them up to the surface.

Just as he managed to get a hold of the villain, he felt something rough and metal clamp against his wrists. Snapping his head down, he saw the dim glimmer of handcuffs, and jerked his hands outwards. It seemed that the villain wasn’t as dim as he’d thought; they knew about his super strength and had found cuffs which he couldn’t easily break. He would’ve groaned if that hadn’t have meant he would take in a mouthful of water.

The last thing the villain did was kick at him roughly, pushing him further down below the surface. Peter found his legs kicking wildly didn’t do much help to push himself upwards, not with his hands bound. As the figure of Sharkwing disappeared, swimming further and further away, he began to panic.

Memories flashed back. Caught up in his parachute, struggling. It might have saved him from the fall, but now it was killing him. The Vulture dropping him into the lake. Drowning. Drowning.

Even in the haze of panic, Peter held his breath. His rambling mind supplied facts that both helped and hindered his situation. The average person can hold their breath for roughly 30 seconds. Only trained professionals can hold their breath for longer, and that’s usually only for up to 2 minutes.

It didn’t take a lot to drown, Peter mused, legs beginning to slow in their movements, as he watched the light above the surface grow dimmer. Some studies even showed that perhaps, a person could drown in 1 millilitre of fluid for each kilogram they weighed. How much did he weigh? If he had more mass because of more muscle, would it take longer for him to drown?

He felt his throat burning but didn’t dare take a breath. It made sense that oxygen couldn’t be in his suit. There’d have to be a tank or something, and that would be too bulky for his material. Plus, his spandex was breathable.

His mind jumped through the stages of drowning and their details. If he took a breath, he’d take in water. For those first few seconds, he’d be provided with a burst of adrenaline, brain reeling into fight or flight mode as he struggled to breathe. Then, his airways would begin to close, preventing any more water coming in. As well as any more oxygen. It might be a couple more minutes after that before he passed out.

His eyes flickered with black dots. At some point, he realised that his lungs had refused to cooperate, that his brain’s message to clamp his mouth and nostrils shut hadn’t worked and he found himself spluttering.

What stage was he at, Peter wondered groggily? He’d stopped struggling after a moment and found himself being pulled both downwards into the depths of the lake, and downwards into the depths of his mind. Down into the dark depths of unconsciousness. Its greedy black tendrils clawed at him, and eventually, he let it.

____

Of course, technology isn’t everything about a superhero.

Even if Tony hadn’t put oxygen in his suit, he was still a hero. In those vital few minutes of struggle, forcing himself to hold his breath, Tony had received an alert from Karen.

It had taken all of two and a half minutes to get into his Iron Man suit and reach the lake outside of Queens. Somewhere in his mind, Tony vaguely registered that this was the same lake that the Vulture had dropped Peter into.

He scanned for life signs and found the dim light of a figure too far below the surface for his liking. At once, he dove down, holding his breath instinctively, only focusing on the dark flash of red below him. He reached out, the bright glow of his repulsors lighting up the water ahead of him. Peter was limp and unresponsive as he grasped the boy’s hand. He pulled him up anyway, bringing the boy close to his chest before looking up and pushing out of the water, careful not to lose momentum and be pulled away by the current.

The journey from the lake to the rough rocky ground beside it took far too long. He pulled the boy’s mask off his face, sighing in relief to see that his lips hadn’t tinged blue.

“Not in hypoxic convulsion…” he muttered to himself, tapping Peter’s cheek gently before quickly stepping out of his suit.

“Run me through his vitals.” Tony added, getting to work straight away on CPR when he was told through FRIDAY that Peter’s breathing had stopped.

That didn’t mean the end. No, it didn’t. His heart rate was slow, but it wasn’t gone. Peter wasn’t gone.

The thoughts ran through his head in a steady mantra as he pumped his hands against Peter’s chest, waiting for a few moments in between, begging whoever was listening that he’d see the boy’s eyes flutter open, before beginning the process again. After a minute that had felt like an eternity, when he was beginning to wonder if… if…

Peter coughed harshly, water spraying from his mouth. Tony gently pushed the boy onto his side so that he didn’t choke, leaving a hand gently on his back as he wheezed, murmuring softly, “It’s okay, it’s okay, kid, get it out…”

When it seemed that he’d finished, the boy started to push himself weakly to a sitting position. Tony rushed to help him, eyes never leaving Peter’s face, seeing the life in his eyes and short breaths of air he was taking. He didn’t like to look at his hands and see the strong cuffs of metal around his wrists. He’d deal with those later, safely.

“You okay, kiddo?”

He waited a moment, before sighing in relief as he saw Peter’s short nod, followed by a raspy, “Yeah… thank… thanks, Mr Stark.” As the boy began to regain his breath, he started to look more panicked. “I’m sorry—I should’ve… called for help, I… it was just going so…”

“Don’t worry.” Tony was quick to ease his tension. “I think it was a good thing you didn’t call for help.” A pause. “Well, not in that way, but—a good thing that you held your breath. That was… a while, kiddo. I was going as fast as I could but—if you hadn’t held your breath…” He glanced briefly away. “What I’m saying is- even in the situation, you thought, you came up with the best course of action. You stayed alive. You relied on yourself, not on the suit.” He stepped backwards, allowing his suit to encase around him once more. “I’m gonna need to take you back to the medbay to have Brucie bear check you over.”

Tony lifted the boy up easily into his arms. “You did good, kid.”

As he began to fly back to the Tower, he could’ve sworn he heard the boy mumble out to him, “Does that mean… I’m an- an Avenger, now?”

If there was one thing that Tony had learned on his journey with the boy, was that, even if he did worry, and even if he saw Peter as a kid- as his kid, the boy who helped him in the lab and rambled about Star Wars and ate pineapple pizza… He was also Spider-Man. He might have put everything in the suit, but the most important thing in that suit, was Peter.

“Yeah. You’re an Avenger, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave some feedback below, I love hearing from you all. Or, I do have a [Tumblr](http://peer-parker.tumblr.com/). Thanks for staying with me on this wild (and somewhat lengthy) journey! I'm definitely planning on writing more multichapter fics in the future. Maybe even one with a solid storyline and not a 5+1.


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